


Huh. When did THAT get There?

by Galaxy-Bellies (Laziest_Dragon)



Category: undertum
Genre: Belly Kink, Graphic Descriptions of Food, M/M, PLEASE PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO TAGS, Stomach Kink, Undertum (freeform), feeder/feedie relationship, feedism kink, feedism story, i wouldn't suggest reading this while hungry, stuffing kink, the actual plot doesn't start until chapter 7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laziest_Dragon/pseuds/Galaxy-Bellies
Summary: Sans has been falling asleep at Grillby's bar for a while now, it's become so common that Grillby has begun inviting him instead of the accidental awkward night. Sans's heavy eating habits and Grillby allowing him to sleep in and laze around even more than per usual suddenly becomes visible, and both of them want to see just how visible it can become.---As in, this is a fic about a feedism relationship between these two, so if you aren't into that stuff, this is NOT the fic for you. You have been warned.





	1. Lazybones

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of set-up for you. The real stuff you came here for doesn't begin until about chapter three... but I think you'll find it worth the wait. Updates right now may be a bit slow, as this is a project I am currently just doing for fun in my spare-time, and I have many things going on right now. Rest assured, I will finish this, as it is too good to simply passed up since I have it planned out.  
> \---  
> The first night Grillby finds Sans passed out at his bar's counter... whatever shall he do with this heavy(adorable) patron...?

Tringle-ling! The little bell at the top of the door goes off as a familiar figure shuffles his way out of the cold and into the warm, inviting orange glow of the bar, winking at the laughing group to his left and taking his spot at the counter. The seat has practically been reserved for him, he uses it so much. He doesn’t even have to wave the server over and order, the two large burgers cooked and garnished to perfection are slid over without a word like clockwork, along with a family sized bottle of ketchup. The small figure looks up and grins lazily at the suited man, cracking another wink. “well hello to you too, grillbz.” He quips with a little chuckle. The sunglass-donning fire-elemental simply nods back. 

Sans knows that Grillby is a man of few words, especially during work hours, so he lets the quiet elemental have his peace while he digs into his evening hoard. “mm- ‘sh great as always, grillbz- though, i think it could use another pickle to this side ‘ere… nice n’ greasy though… heh, mmf- yanno me well.” Sans says through a mouthful, really only joking about the critique. Pretty much anything that comes from Grillby’s skilled hand is bound to be delicious. Sans just enjoys toying with him a bit to discreetly get a bit more from his meal. Grillby silently takes the advice and walks in a brisque, professional manor to the kitchen, and returns with a whole pickle in a paper half-box style container, complete with a flagged toothpick sticking out. He calmly places it down next to Sans.

“Is this enough pickle for you, sir, or do I need to make a patty out of them to sate you?” Grillby says quietly, his voice moreso sounding like the crackling of a warm hearth in a living room than an actual voice. Sans chuckles through another greasy mouthful, swallowing before responding. 

“i think this is the perfect amount, grillbz, you’ll make a good cook of yourself yet.” He responds with a playful grin outlined by grease, condiments, and the stray onion piece. If Grillby had eyes to roll, you could consider them officially rolled.   
“Wipe your face, Sans.” Grillby finishes the conversation there, shaking his head a bit and walking from behind the counter to deal with a different table.

Sans snickers a bit and continues his little binge, deciding against actually wiping his face until the last minute. He always preferred eating a bit sloppy, in his opinion, having grease dripping from your cheeks and your hands smeared with condiments adds to the experience. A few mere moments of uninterrupted eating later and the entire large burger is gone, leaving Sans huffing for air a bit. He can already feel his limit pressing in, his entire body feels wonderfully sated and heavy, and he finds himself taking a short break from his feast by resting his arms on the counter, sighing happily as he lets the sounds and smells of the bar wash over him.

He stays like this for a few minutes until the tempting corner of bun and lettuce in the corner of his eyes begs him to sit back up, so he does so, and takes a hearty 3-swallow swig of his ketchup before recapping the bottle and taking up the second burger. By this time a few of the customers are making their way out the door, the only filled chairs now being the crowded table in the middle, filled with drunken dogs, and Sans’s spot at the counter. As per usual, the dogs are pushing the limit of closing time. 

Grillby makes them cough up a bill before they drunkenly stumble away, still howling with laughter. He then gets to work cleaning up their mess. As the dogs do eat in the traditional dog manner, face first and immeasurably messy, it always takes Grillby a minimum of fifteen minutes to clear the table, not including wiping it down and cleaning the dishes. Today had been particularly gruesome, as the dogs had played some sort of game with catching food in their mouths that someone threw them. Dogs are typically good at this game, at least, when they're sober. Grillby lets out a woeful sigh as he notes a tomato sticking tauntingly to the ceiling. He has to grab a chair to stand on and wipe it off, along with the puddle of dog slobber surrounding it. He would prefer not to think about how that happened.

Through all of this Sans is still at the bar counter, savoring every bite of his meal and nursing his ketchup bottle. He knows well that it's past closing time, but that is the polar opposite of a problem. Grillby is more than happy to let Sans stay, as the two of them have become accustomed to staying up late and talking. It's the highlight of both of their days, something to really look forward to. Grillby finds himself glancing every once in awhile at the hunched over regular. He looks particularly drowsy tonight, his movements slow. Usually he’s finished eating before Grillby finishes wiping off the table. Odd, though Grillby decides not to press.

Grillby ends up turning his full attention back to the mess at hand, still having to deal with the trays piled with scraps and the soiled glasses. He stifles another sigh. [Tomorrow,] he promises himself, [I will limit how many booze they buy.] And THIS time, he plans on keeping that promise.

It isn’t long until the dogs’ mess has been wiped up and the dirty rags placed in his usual spot to keep them until he is ready to wash them, and Grillby re-enters the bar. He drifts over to grab a stool, then goes back behind the counter to sit down… and when he goes eye-to-eye with Sans, he finds his eyes to be closed. Huh. He actually fell asleep half sitting up, his arms positioned in a manner perfect for cushioning his head, like a pillow.

Grillby isn’t unaware of Sans’s odd sleeping habits, but he had never fallen asleep this early at the bar. It’s unusual, though… not really bad. He looks peaceful like this, his back rising and falling with every even breath and a little drool peeking from his teeth. Okay… the drool is more gross than cute, but Grillby honestly doesn’t mind it. He had left a corner of his second burger untouched- Grillby would wager he still smells it in his slumber and his sub-consciousness still craves it.

Something about that heats Grillby’s face a bit, and since nobody’s watching, he allows his flames to change color to a sort of purple-ish blue. Why exactly that moves him so is beyond him, but he decides not to question it. He needs to figure out what to do with his sleeping regular. He takes his glasses off and puts them on the table, resting the palms of his hands in the slight indents where they usually rest and letting out a long, quiet sigh. He could call Papyrus to come pick him up… Papyrus is probably already asleep though- the town outside is too quiet for him to be romping around.

Grillby feels anxiety grip his soul as he pictures himself holding that phone conversation. Something tells him that doing anything but that sounds great. So… should he just leave Sans here? The bar certainly isn’t the most comfortable place to rest- the wood is pretty to look at and an excellent place to rest a tray of food, but it isn’t all that soft. Grillby decides he’s going to have to take this matter into his own hands.

He replaces his glasses on his face, smoothing down the stray flame atop his head and walking around the bar to the patron’s side, carefully scooping the tiny form of Sans into his arms. His flames let out a “woosh” of surprise. He is much heavier than he looks. Now- Grillby doesn’t brag about his strength often, but he has a sturdy strength binding his body together that is undeniable. He manages to lift the sleeping pile of bones without difficulty physically, but there must be some serious density to Sans’s frame if he makes Grillby strain at all. 

Grillby supposes that eating as much as Sans does would do such a thing to any monster. Not that Grillby minds.

Oh, he doesn’t mind at all.

It sort of… amazes him that Sans is so unique. Small framed, yet heavy as a boulder; tired, but always working… the list goes on. Luckily for Grillby’s arm and chest, his apartment isn’t far at all. It’s behind the bar, hidden behind the fire escape, which he keeps locked at nearly all times. He has his right to his privacy, after all. A short walk down the hall, into the living room, and Grillby pauses. What should he do with him now? Put him on the couch? He probably wouldn’t mind; Grillby muses. He hears Papyrus’s banter as he complains to some resident of Snowdin about Sans’s questionable places to sleep.

But just dumping a guest on the couch seems a little rude, even if that guest is Sans. The bed it is. Grillby carries him into the next room, which smells the strongest of smoke of any room in the house. Inevitably, the room is the one he uses the most, so the wooden walls around the room have consequently soaked up the most of his musky smelling ash. Grillby likes to think of it as… a homely smell. 

He gently lays Sans down onto the bed, holding in a chuckle as Sans’s face scrunches up as he leaves his warm embrace. Grillby notices the slightly uncomfortable pinch to his muscles leave as Sans’s invisible burden leaves its list of concerns. He shakes his head a little. Again, Sans’s eating habits do the opposite of bother him, when he does pay his tab, it’s quite the handsome amount, and it isn’t Grillby’s position to judge how much he crams past that tired smile… 

Grillby sighs and gently pulls the light blanket he has on the edge of the bed over him. He doesn’t own any heavy blankets, as he really doesn’t need them, being a living heater, and he feels a little bad that he has nothing thicker to offer. He’s probably cold, or will be at some point in the night without Grillby in here… do skeletons even feel the cold…? It’s debatable. 

He decides just to leave Sans just like this… hopefully he wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. He makes to walk out of the room, though can’t help but look back before he closes the door. His soul flutters a little as Sans rolls over and subconsciously mumbles something, a hand clasping around the corner of his pillow and nuzzling the fabric. Once again, Grillby’s flames flicker blue. Oh that is precious… a secretive smile on his not-lips, Grillby silently closes the door and calls it a night.


	2. A Socially Awkward Flame and a Drowsy Skeleton Walk into a Bar...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby invites Sans over to his house rather than just dragging his sorry corpse over as usual... and then it happens again. And again.  
> Suddenly, it's a common occurrence...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess waking up at 4 am with a nasty cramp has its perks after all. Enjoy the second chapter, out much sooner than expected from anyone, including me.

Grillby watches with a tired gaze as the pack of dogs once again picks themselves up and laughs their way out the door, a few having the nerve to wave drunkenly to Grillby. His flames twitch in annoyance, mostly due to his own stupidity. One day he will listen to the voice of reason, but he supposes today is not that day. Perhaps tomorrow he’ll somehow cut them off at the third round of booze. Perhaps…

Grillby finds himself looking over at the bar counter and finding Sans once again seeming to trudge through the last of his meal. Grillby rubs a hand along his face, a puff of steam rising from it, visibly showing his slight struggle. Now, Grillby had never really been all that confident, and what he’s trying to do here is no easy feat… but he had made up his mind an hour ago, and he needs to catch Sans before He passes out and Grillby loses his chance.

A messy table can wait five minutes, he thinks to himself, although the idea of just letting all of that sit there irks him more than a little. He can wait, surely. He forces himself to look back at Sans from the table, and it seems as though he hasn't noticed Grillby’s odd behavior. One more preparatory sigh… and he walks over, putting a hand on Sans’s shoulder, causing him to look up with half-lidded eyes.

“mm…?” He mumbles confusedly, a good sized chunk of food still in his mouth. It takes a moment for Grillby to figure out how to word this…

“Sans,” he begins, “this may sound a little… odd… but…” Grillby sighs again, rubbing his temple as he fights his rising panic to think straight. “I was wondering if you would… like to stay a little longer than usual tomorrow.” 

Sans doesn't reply, he simply blinks a few times, and Grillby can’t help but feel as if he did something wrong. He’s just staring so blankly- is he upset? Grillby removes his hand, looking away, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Sorry- I shouldn't have asked-”

“hey, woah, calm down grillbz.” Sans suddenly says, seeming to knock himself out of a trance. “i never said i was refusin’ your offer.” His smile seems a bit softer than usual… maybe a bit more genuine.

“honestly, bud, it sounds great.” Grillby’s soul pounds in his chest. He accepted. “but, uh…” oh no. His soul sinks again, the flames atop his head swishing and cracking uncontrollably with nervousness. He hasn't felt this anxious about anything in a long, long time. “i have an early shift at my posts tomorrow… pap’d probably have my skull on a silver platter if i didn't show up.”

Grillby dips his head a little. Of course. How could he forget. Sans has a life outside his bar- Grillby is so selfish-

“uh- grillbz…?” Grillby snaps back to attention, his flames flaring as he comes back to the reality of the closed bar. He apologizes embarrassedly, clasping his left arm with his right hand, aware of his cheeks being flushed light blue. How humiliating…

“hey, it’s ok bud- just calm down. heh… i think this takes the cake as the most energetic i’ve ever seen ya’.” Grillby’s hold on his arm tightens. 

“Is there… some way I could cover your shift tomorrow?” Grillby finds himself speaking without a filter- what an odd feeling. He takes a physical double-take as he says that, his visible flames swirling instead of him flinching. “Perhaps… I could get the dogs out a little earlier than they're used to- they owe me something other than G for…” he gestures at the dogs’ disgusting table, and Sans looks over his shoulder at it with a sort of… understanding gaze.

“well, i can't put down an offer to sleep in late- ‘specially in your bed, i swear to asgore it’s the comfiest bed in the underground.” Grillby feels his cheeks heat further at that. This is happening, it really is. His soul flutters in his chest as he goes to wipe down the tables for the night, trying to hide his excitement for the day ahead.

\---

Sans leans his head into his resting hand, his cheek protruding a little as he does so and a silent groan escaping him. What time is it… he looks around the bar, feeling almost nauseous as he does so. His head is spinning a little, his entire body pulses with a dull ache. The bar hasn't closed… it’s probably only 7:30, based on the current patrons still in.

He sighs heavily and shifts so he’s utilizing his arm pillow in its most comfortable position. He had felt like shit since he woke up way too early this morning and attempted to wake himself up with a questionable amount of coffee and cinnamon buns. 

He should have stopped at six.

Now all he can do is hope with a sickened, drowsy soul that Grillby takes some mercy on him tonight. It’s rather selfish, he supposes, just expecting the fire elemental to give up his bed for him every few nights, but Grillby certainly doesn't seem to mind… even after a few weeks of it he’s been patient and understanding, even excited on certain occasions.

Sans doesn't think he can stand waking up at 6:00 again tomorrow… though he knows Papyrus will make him do just that if he doesn't get lucky. But oh- Sans isn't demanding enough to ask for solace at Grillby’s place- if the elemental never asks, Sans will accept his fate and suffer for another day. Wouldn't be anything new for luck to not be on his side.

It seems fate decided to bring Grillby back to the counter at this point, and Sans can’t find the energy to smile at him. Grillby is a difficult monster to read, but after sitting on this stool night after night, Sans has noticed a few of the tiny shifts and movements that signify Grillby’s expressions.

Right now the elemental’s brow is furrowed a little. He’s worried. Damnit. “Sans… is everything alright…?”

How does he answer this… how else can he answer this than by brushing it off as usual? The flaming monster has enough to worry about without Sans’s stupidity taking up his thoughts as well.

“heh… course.” He says, forcing a smile at last. Grillby doesn't look convinced; he reaches a hand over and places it on Sans’s head, making Sans groan quietly and angle himself towards it, the heat distracting him from the aching pain in his bones.

“Are you sure…? You're burning up…” Sans smiles a little.

“you sure you ain't talkin ‘bout’cherself, hot stuff?” Sans asks with a little wink. Grillby removes his hand, his brow only furrowing further. 

“Sans… please don't do that.”

“what’cha talkin’ bout?”

“Don't cover your discomfort with… jokes and pickup lines. It isn't convincing, and it isn't helping you.” Sans sighs heavily, letting his facial expression drop. He has a point. 

“You seriously look ill… I don't think you should go to work tomorrow like this…” bless this man. “I’ll get the dogs to cover your shift tomorrow… do you think you can make it to my room without assistance…?”

Sans nods, a genuine smile creeping onto his face. “yeah, grillbz… ‘yer doin’ plenty for me already…. heh… yer a saint, man…” he predicts Grillby’s slight hue change. He had hypothesized that it was due to emotion, and the more he tests his theory the more evidence he has behind it - so he knows that he just hit a soft-spot in the best way.

He waits for Grillby to leave the counter, the elemental still seeming a bit flustered as he walks off to cater to a customer. [cute.] With a smile on Sans’s face, he shortcuts into the back room and lets sleep work its magic.


	3. A Downward Facing Spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter. Each --- signifies a time skip, each of various lengths. It's supposed to be a bit choppy, as time isn't really all that relevant in Sans's spiral.

[Things have honestly been pretty good,] Sans muses to himself as he rests at his station. Grillby’s been more than welcoming of Sans during the past few months, and life couldn't be better. Sans has taken too many days off to count recently, though every one of his shifts has been covered one way or another. The dogs have pretty much adjusted to the fact that every other day they have to wake up earlier to cover another one of Sans’s morning shifts, or give up their afternoon session of poker to sniff around in the cold for humans.

While they aren't necessarily happy about it, they are getting rewarded with free food. And Papyrus can’t really complain either, as the shifts ARE getting managed, just not by Sans. It bugs him that his brother is taking refuge out of his grasp… Papyrus absolutely can NOT stand being in Grillby’s bar- the whole place reeks of grease. 

So for now, Sans is safely within Grillby’s warm embrace. Sans finds himself genuinely smiling as he drifts off at his post, daydreaming about the wonderful morning to come the next day.

\---

Sans finds himself feeling tipsy as he stumbles home late the next afternoon. He hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol, and somehow the entire world feels fuzzy… surreal. He grips at his skull in one hand and stifles a groan as he forces the front door open with his other and shuffles to the couch, flopping onto it in a manner that could not be considered graceful. Papyrus emerges from the kitchen with a concerned expression under his comical baking hat. “BROTHER… YOU DO NOT LOOK WELL- AND YOU ARE HOME MUCH LATER THAN I WOULD PREFER.” 

Sans manages a smile. “sorry, bro. i just… got a bit caught up.” Well… he isn’t lying. Somehow he managed to sleep in until noon and Grillby insisted he stay until he had something to eat. Sans’s soul flutters a little at the memory, making his smile twitch a bit. Papyrus’s frown deepens. “I WORRY FOR YOU, SANS… I FEAR THAT ONE DAY YOUR LAZINESS WILL JUST- CONSUME YOU.”

“feels more like i’m consuming my laziness, bro.” Sans cracks with a goofy wink, trying to play off the fact that the world begins spinning in the other direction when he opens it again. Papyrus sighs exasperatedly and shakes his head.   
“I GUESS YOU MUST BE AT LEAST SOMEWHAT ALRIGHT IF YOU CAN STILL MAKE THOSE AWFUL JOKES.” He muses, looking a little tired himself.

Sans shrugs into the couch cushions, letting his eyes close. “yup.”  
\---

Four days. It had been four days since Sans had last felt like shit- what brought it back? He sighs and faceplants onto his arm pillow, letting his moan get swallowed by the fabric of his jacket and the buzz of the bar. It’s during these little spells that he wishes moving weren’t physically possible. Could gravity maybe let up its hold on him for a few days so he can just… float everywhere without having to wake up and shift his weight? Ugh… 

He feels a warm hand on his upper back and sighs with defeat. “...’dya mind givin’ yer local neighborhood overworked skel’ another day off…?”

“Of course not.”

\---

Sans looks into the milky amber liquid that swirls peacefully in the mug in his hands, feeling the warmth it gives off seep into his phalanges. He heaves a heavy sigh, not even feeling the energy to lift the damn cup to his face. He doesn’t even know what time it is right now, and frankly, he doesn’t care. This energy drop has him absolutely wrecked, Papyrus’s nagging has only gotten worse… and Grillby is obviously worried about him as well, despite him trying to hide it. Sans has found the flame monster easier and easier to read as time had passed. His flames tend to dim down when he’s trying to hide something, and they tilt to the left when he’s anxious. Right now, they’re doing both, as Sans can see by simply flitting his eyelights to the left.

Grillby’s hovering in the meager kitchen of his house, looking at the couch with his hands clasped and his left thumb brushing over his right hand’s knuckles. Sans looks away, shifting his shoulders so the blanket draped over them covers him a little better, and sits back, grunting a little as he does so. Grillby’s going to be hovering over him like some sort of flaming hen if he doesn’t at least drink the tea he provided…

With another sigh Sans forces the mug to his teeth, ignoring the slight burn caused by the hot liquid streaming down his metaphorical throat and spreading through his body, only seeming to make him want to sink into the couch further due to some invisible pressure pinning him down. Sans’s arm flops uselessly to the side, and he decides another nap would probably be best at this point. 

Maybe this time he’ll actually wake up feeling better than when he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if you need any clarification on this, I'd be happy to go into a bit more depth on a certain thing if you can't piece it together.
> 
> Things will get better from here, I promise.


	4. What in Tarnation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets a sudden burst of energy.  
> Grillby has more questions than answers as to why.

Energetic. That had to be the only way Grillby could describe the past day. Everything had sort of- passed in a blur. He knew why, and the reason was more confusing than anything else the elemental had faced before. He fiddles with the handle on one of his various coffee mugs he keeps stashed in the bar’s kitchen. Over the past month and a half his most regular customer had been seemingly slipping into some sort of desocializing, exhausted, depressed state- and it had taken just about every coping mechanism in the book, good and bad, to keep Grillby from just yelling at him to tell him what’s wrong.

But today… Sans’s smile had been just about as wide as it could get. Just his expression seemed so foreign- is that how bad it had gotten? It really was. Grillby recalls his posture as he made his way to the bar. Just yesterday he was slouching, his feet dragging and his shoulders slumped as if just shuffling those fuzzy slippers was the most difficult thing he could possibly conceive. 

Today, however, he had cheerfully trotted- yeah, Sans the skeleton TROTTED to his spot at the counter. His eyelights were gleaming, the brightest Grillby had ever seen them before. And he had finger-gunned at anyone who even glanced at him. When’s the last time he did that? Maybe… two months ago. The bartender was honestly shocked speechless at his sudden emotional turn-around. Luckily, he doesn’t talk much anyway, so hopefully his confusion hadn’t come off too strongly. 

Grillby puts down the mug, shaking his head a little. Luckily he had suggested that Sans stay the night… maybe he’d find the reasoning behind his sudden rush if he hung around the skeleton longer. Sans had already traversed to Grillby’s house, he’s probably lounging on the couch right now… or maybe not, Grillby doesn’t know. That’s new. Grillby thought he knew him so well… maybe not.  
With a final confused sigh he adjusts his glasses and looks over the bar, ensuring that he cleaned up all the tables. Sometimes he forgets the one closest to the counter, it just doesn’t register in his vision unless he looks right at it. Leaning over the counter tells him that he indeed remembered to clean it and sighs with relief. 

Grillby’s polished shoes clack rather loudly in the empty bar as he makes his way towards the front door, flipping the sign to the side that reads [WE’RE CLOSED], and flipping the lock above the door knob. “There…” He affirms to himself that the bar is taken care of verbally and walks back to the fire exit. 

Naturally, being made of fire, the fire exit is no problem to simply walk right through. On the other side of the wall is his living room, with the kitchen to the left and the bedrooms to the right. A quick glance around the room reveals Sans to be sitting on the counter, swinging his legs idly as he hums. The sight of him so content looking is just so out of the ordinary- Grillby supposes he should be happy for his friend, but it just happened so suddenly. Grillby has read medical books about mental disorders, they tend to take years to even slightly recover from. And… it is evident to Grillby that Sans isn’t neurotypical by any means. 

His thought process is interrupted by Sans talking. “oh- there you are, grillbz. thought you’d never come.”

“Sans… it has only been about five minutes since you left the bar.”

“time flies when walking isn’t a chore.”

So Sans is aware of the change as well. Grillby mentally slaps himself for that one. Of course he’s aware- there isn’t anything Sans ISN’T aware of, as far as he knows. He just… didn’t comment on it at any other point in the day. That isn’t necessarily out of character for him- Sans doesn’t really openly talk about many things… Grillby shakes his head with a final sigh and walks over to the kitchen where he leans on the counter next to him. “whew- it is smokin’ hot in here, or maybe that’s just you, hot stuff.” 

Grillby looks over at Sans, confusion tilting his flames. “I beg your pardon?” Sans has a wide grin on his face. This must be one of his pranks. 

“aw, c’mon grillbz- you gotta admit i’m on fire with these pickup lines. at least throw me a bone here, i gotta practice them on someone.”

“Sans, I do not understand why you’d practice fire-based pickup lines on a fire elemental if you aren’t going to use them on one. There are no others in Snowdin, and last time I checked, you never go far passed town.” Grillby points out. Really, the skeleton’s attempts at humor simply make no sense to him during times like these.

“geez grillbz, no need to make my plans go up in smoke like that.” Sans cracks a wink in his direction, and Grillby feels his cheeks begin to heat up. He manages to force down the consequential blush, though it’s rather difficult. Sans just… must be drowsy or something. Or maybe he snagged a bottle of booze without Grillby noticing- he just… seems filterless. 

“I think it is bedtime for you, Sans.” Grillby really needs a bit of time to think on his own about this whole situation- Sans resting in his close proximity will definitely soothe his mind, at least a little.

“awww- i was just gettin’ warmed up here.” Sans whines playfully. He’d never outright refuse a nap, he just wants to tick off Grillby just a bit more… then he’d be more than happy to let sleep happen.

“It is definitely bedtime.” Grillby corrects himself. Sans can’t complain. The day went by quickly, and this is a pleasant way to end it. However… he isn’t quite done. The short skeleton is making absolutely no move to get up from the counter top. He isn’t even gathering his magic to take a shortcut to the bedroom. “Sans.” Grillby decides to pull out his extra-stern voice. Sans simply looks over, his expression just blank enough to look smug. “If you do not start moving I will have to take drastic measures.”

“wow. you got me- i’m terrified.” Oh that does it. Without another word Grillby picks up the grinning skeleton, holding him as a mother would hold their child as he walked briskly to the bedroom. Some part of him knew that Sans wanted this all along, but he doesn’t mind it one bit. If he wants to be difficult just for an excuse to be lazy, then… well… Grillby is rather powerless to stop him. That, and feeling Sans relax in his arms has sort of become a secret comfort Grillby has developed over the past month or so.

Just about every night Sans stays, he gets picked up at one point or another. Grillby has figured out where just about every rib under that t-shirt is located, among other things. He considers himself rather educated on Sans’s form, and both of them are comfortable with that. But… something felt off tonight.

Now, skeletons are known for being made of nothing but just bone. It’s one of the key things that sets them apart from every other monster species- aside from their magical abilities, of course. Grillby had grown accustomed to feeling the rather awkward space between Sans’s ribs and hips where there weren’t any bones fit neatly around part of his arm… but tonight…

Grillby makes no comment on it as he gently lays Sans down, finding that the skeleton had already passed out. He can’t help but be concerned- what had happened to Sans?! First, a complete mentality flip- then- something is filling what is supposed to be air-

Deep breaths. Surely there is some sort of logical explanation for this. There is a logical explanation for everything. Grillby… just needs to find all the pieces of the puzzle… then he can make a judgement call. His arm inches out as he tries to gather the courage to do this. He’s doing this completely without Sans’s permission- but- he’s out cold, and Grillby figures that simply lifting the bottom of his shirt won’t harm him- but for some reason his soul is clenching with anticipation. What if Sans somehow finds out and is pissed in the morning? What if this is all just some sort of elaborate prank Grillby is falling into and won’t know until next week when Sans remembers to inform him of it, causing his anxiety levels to be off the charts until he gets an answer?

Deep. Breaths. Grillby needs to stop coming up with the worst-case scenarios. The elemental closes his eyes as his hand makes contact with the fabric of Sans’s shirt. Here goes nothing. Slowly, rather shakily, the garment is moved out of the way, and Grillby takes a few more moments to steady himself before opening his eyes.

What in Asgore’s name is that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **IMPORTANT NOTE**  
> This is not a story about pregnancy. Please do not go in the comments and try and persuade me or other readers that it is, because it is not.


	5. Some Breakfast, Huh?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby is worried sick about Sans. The poor elemental has had a sleepless night, and his mind has perhaps wandered too far. What if that t h i n g is draining Sans's magic? His reserves are going to need to be replenished...

Sleep was difficult for Grillby to come by. Rather than actually resting, he’d found his thoughts clouded by the strange substance filling Sans’s torso. He simply can’t figure out what it is or where it came from. Grillby runs a hand down the back of his head, worry causing his flames to flicker faster than usual. A quick glance at the digital clock on the wall tells him that it’s 6:30. Sans won’t be awake for another three hours or so… or maybe he will be? Grillby doesn’t know what to think right now.

His soul straining with worry, he decides to check on Sans again. He’d been doing so nearly periodically throughout the night. What if that odd bulge was a parasite of some sort? Was it causing Sans any pain? Every time he’d checked in so far, Sans hadn’t seemed in any sort of discomfort- but Grillby can’t help but feel worried still. He walks briskly to the bedroom, taking a few calming breaths before slowly opening the door, being careful to move it open in stages so that it wouldn’t creak as loudly as usual.

Sans hadn’t moved since Grillby last checked in about fifteen minutes ago. He’s laying on his right side, the covers a bundle half-way off the bed. As inactive as Sans usually is in the day, he always manages to kick the covers in a way that looks like a hurricane swept over them while he sleeps. His breathing is still slow and even, his facial expression relaxed. Grillby feels a brief pulse of relief push from his soul. But… it still feels tight in his chest. This isn’t enough information for him to leave just yet. 

Grillby slowly makes his way to the side of the bed Sans is facing and kneels down next to it, now nearly face-to-face with the sleeping skeleton. He gently moves what part of the blanket remains on top of him to the side. He then once again gently moves Sans’s shirt out of the way. The gesture doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as it did when he first did it, but he still feels the same levels of nervousness. The strange substance is still there… 

It’s an odd wall-like barrier that looks firm but is soft to the touch. It is blue in color, and looking closely reveals that it is a lighter shade near its edge, and the entire thing is slightly transparent. It has a slight curve to it that’s hardly noticeable, but it definitely sticks out a bit more near Sans’s hips. If Grillby had to guess, he’d say it’s made of magic. He can… sort of feel its presence in the room. It almost feels like another being on its own. This is why Grillby is concerned that it may be a parasite- if it’s made of magic and is latched onto Sans it could be draining the energy from him as the night goes on.

What if it drains so much magic that Sans never wakes up? What if Grillby can’t wake him in time and he dusts before he can even do anything? These thoughts scare Grillby more than he’d prefer to admit. If that weird blue gel-like substance is sapping Sans’s magic he’ll need to resupply it. He’ll be starving when he wakes up if that is the case… Grillby pulls Sans’s shirt back down and gently replaces the blanket in a more normal position. He needs to make sure Sans is going to be alright before he lets him slip away.

\---

[ah… grillby’s house.] The first thought in Sans’s waking mind makes him smile a bit wider as he opens his eyes. [heheh… i bet he’s already up and makin’ breakfast.] With that thought in mind, Sans sits up and stretches his arms up, waiting for his joints to pop before he settles back down. Man… he feels just as good as he did yesterday. Heh… he really has a lot of reasons to smile right now, doesn’t he? A nice change. 

He slips off the blanket that currently only covers his knees down and slides off the bed, landing with a dull thud. Here he pauses to stuff his hands in his coat pockets before strolling out of the room, opening the door with his magic rather than wasting his energy on taking his hands out of his pockets again. With that tiny blip of magic he feels a sort of pang run through his torso. Woah- since when was he so hungry? Welp, good thing he can smell food being prepared in the kitchen. Yeah, Grillby’s makin’ breakfast alright.

“heeyy, ‘mornin, gribblez.” Sans teases with a playful wink. Grillby looks up from the counter, his flames flickering in acknowledgement.

“Very funny, Sans.” He says in his most unamused tone. Score. But… he’s feeling too hungry to keep that up for too long.

“so, what’cha got cookin’ there?” 

“Oh, you know. Yellow stuff. Brown stuff. Something that vaguely resembles breakfast.”

“very funny, grillby.” 

Sans chuckles to himself as Grillby rolls his eyes. “but, in all seriousness, it smells really good. i’m just feelin’ too lazy to walk all the way to the counter right now. heh... you pro’lly don’t know what that feels like. you’re like… the busiest guy i know.” Grillby shrugs. 

“We all have our off-days.” Weird. Sans forces his eyes not to narrow a little. Okay… Grillby seems casual enough, but there’s just some part of him that tells him he’s not acting quite normal. 

“yeah, i guess so.” Sans slips into a chair, ready to wait as long as necessary for breakfast to be ready. Hopefully not too long, though… Sans doesn’t think he’s been this hungry in a long while. He’s found in the past that resting his arms on the table and placing his head on them as if they were some sort of pillow makes time go by more unnoticeably, so he does just this. Before long he tires of looking at the counter and lets his eyes slip closed.

\---

~Clink!~

The subtle sound of a plate being set on the table brings Sans out of his light nap. “huh-? oh- grillbz? h-heh- woops- how long was i out there?” Grillby gives Sans a sympathetic look.

“Not that long. Just long enough for me to finish cooking.” Sans looks back to the table.

“woah.” He’s met with the sight of a… well, a feast. Piles of just about every breakfast food Sans could think of are arranged in a manner in which they cover the table, and yet he figures he could reach every dish. “i gotta say, grillbz. you’ve left me a bit scrambled here. fried my brain good. what’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you’re actually eating as much as you really want to without the amount I make limiting you.” Sans searches Grillby’s expression for any hint of a lie. He seems to be telling the truth…

“well, i certainly can’t complain,” Sans responds with a shrug. Honestly, he’s so hungry, clearing the whole table almost seems like a realistic goal. [well, we’ll see about that once you’ve eaten just four of those pancakes over there.] Sans reaches over and nabs one of the two plates of toast.

“Go ahead and have as much of everything as you want. You know I won't be having much myself.” Sans had found out during one of his first hangouts at Grillby’s place that he and the other elementals don't rely on magic that's worked into food to survive. Fire elementals in particular only rely on a small portion of wood pieces per hour or so to keep a steady hold on their magic. Too much results in an uncontrollable inferno, too little risks his soul consuming itself for energy and his body crumbling to dust.

So it's not hard to guess that Grillby isn't going to be indulging in bacon anytime soon. [well, more for me.] Sans stifles a victorious chuckle and simply fills up his plate. Grillby really outdid himself this morning. Sans seriously doubts that all of this came from Grillby just wanting him to be comfortable- something else is going on. What exactly, he has no idea. Sans decides right then and there that he won't be leaving Grillby’s house until he has answers. 

It's a good thing he has all of this food as an excuse as to why he’ll be staying longer than usual. Sans just hates wasting a good meal. It’s especially difficult for him to leave things untouched when the food is prepared and presented by someone else. It's just… flat-out rude to not eat a good portion of someone else’s cooking. 

Sans’s musings are interrupted by the intruding emotions coming from the flavor of the food he just put in his mouth. “mmmmh…” The quiet moan of bliss that rises from somewhere in his chest is muffled by his mouthful of syrup drenched pancake. He holds the bite on his temporarily conjured tongue and feels as the bottom begins to melt into magic that holds the same texture and consistency. Oof- Grillby just has this way of making literally any food feel good and heavy in one’s digestive tract, no matter which stage it's in. It doesn't matter what he makes- it's bound to be filling and rich and delicious.

Another pleasure induced grunt rumbles from his throat as he swallows half of that bite. Before it had even properly left his throat he shovels in a glob of ketchup covered hash browns. The tangy and sweet didn't mix all that well, but another few swallows and he’s left with the wonderfully salty and soft potatoes. Some part of Sans’s mind decides that there just isn't enough food in his mouth at once, so he swiftly puts his conscience at ease by stuffing two whole water sausage patties in there with the half-chewed potato mess. “urff- hfff- nph-mmm…” he struggles to successfully break down the wonderfully spiced patties for a few moments, the little pockets of flavorful not-meat bursting into spicy joy in his slotted jaw. 

Beady white eyelights scan the table for something to wash down his overly crowded mouthful. Aha-! A large bottle of orange juice. And- oh man, Grillby knows him well. It's pulpless. There's just something about the texture of those little rind flakes that irks him, and gagging with your mouth full is not a pleasant experience. [cups are for weak fools.] Sans reassures himself of this as he takes the bottle and simply presses the thing to his teeth, tilting his head back and letting the slightly sweet juice sweep all the remaining food from behind his teeth and what's squished up at the roof of his mouth.

With that problem solved he blocks the stream of juice with his tongue and removes the jug from his jaw, swallowing the remainder that's in his mouth with a few breathless huffs before replacing the juice on the table. “huff… huff… whew…” maybe it wouldn't hurt to slow down a little. He doesn't want to choke when he's only a few bites in. 

Grillby watches silently as Sans shovels food in his mouth. The display is a little gross, but it’s also setting Grillby’s worries off. He can't seem to get enough food in his face at once. Grillby leans on the counter a little to steady himself. Are his magic reserves really so low that he can't fill them back up fast enough? Stars- how much magic did that thing take from him? 

He glances over the counter again and is met with the sight of Sans literally tipping a large ceramic bowl filled to overflowing with scrambled eggs into his mouth. His moans can be heard from the kitchen. 

Grillby removes his glasses so he can rest his slight head indents where his eyes should be against the palms of his hands. A nasty stress headache had crept up on him at 3am and it's showing no sign of lessening anytime soon. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take this stress- it hasn’t even been half a day yet and he feels like utter crap. 

At least Sans hasn’t noticed his struggles. He has problems of his own to deal with. Problems such as eggs tumbling down his shirt and his entire body still aching with hunger. That, and the taste of egg is getting a little dull, but hey, he’s told himself [yeah, i bet i could clear that thing in one go,] so he better damn do it. The magic consistency of the eggs is interesting. It’s sort of… fluffy, might be the right word. It almost feels like little puffs of cotton are slipping down Sans’s not-throat, but a lot more pleasurable and… edible. It’s not that dense, either… it’d take a high quantity to be really filling at all.

Well, you could say he has a high quantity. But is it really that filling? A quiet hiccup racking his body makes him pause from his binge, quickly removing the bowl from his mouth and controlling what he swallows more so he doesn’t choke. Damn… so he couldn’t quite do it all in one go. Once his mouth is cleared he looks into the bowl. Well, there’s really only maybe four forkfuls left in there, so… it counts. 

A victorious smirk makes its way onto Sans’s face. Man, he just cleared pretty much the whole bowl. And… yeah, it’s filling… but he still feels like he could eat. What is up with him today? It’s a good thing Grillby made so much… 

Wait.

What is he doing over there? He looks stressed as hell. “ey, grillbz? you, uh… doin’ alright over there?”

Grillby suddenly looks up, not helping his situation. “I- yes- just… have a headache.” Well, that sounds suspicious. Something is up. Sans is suddenly starving out of nowhere and Grillby just so happens to decide and prepare a feast only for him? While Sans is definitely content with the sudden influx of food, it just seems way too connectable to be a coincidence. 

“hey, uh… is there somethin’ yer not tellin’ me ‘ere, grillbz?” If Grillby could sweat right now, he would. It takes a good couple of seconds for him to even think of a response, and a few more to speak it.

“...Why do you ask?” 

“well, isn’t it just a little odd that you suddenly decide to cook this pile of food? and... heh, you’re just about the only person i’d admit this too, but- i just feel really weird today. like... i feel like i could clear this whole table right now. that just- shouldn’t be possible for someone with my stature.” Grillby looks uncomfortable.

“I… I... “ This is already sounding bad. Grillby almost never stutters, or does anything similar for that matter. “I found something… while you were sleeping.” He doesn’t say anything for a few long moments and Sans finds his vision darting around the room nervously. “Look… down.” 

“grillbz, i got no idea what’cher talkin’ about here, i don’t see-” Sans does indeed look down. The table doesn’t have anything weird or out of the ordinary on it, so maybe it’s something under it? Sans uses his magic to move his chair back… 

“what the hell?” There’s some sort of… cushion under his shirt or something. Now that he’s looking at it, he’s noticing its weight on his thighs. Sans cups a hand on it. “woah-” it’s warm. And… kinda soft? What even- he glances up at Grillby before looking back down and tugging his shirt out of the way. It’s… blue. It seems to be expanding and contracting in time with his breathing as well- it seems to be part of him? 

“I… found that… attached to you. I do not know what it is. I fear it is some sort of parasite… I was worried you would wake up with low magic levels…” Sans nods slowly in understanding. Grillby must have considered the possibility of Sans’s magic draining in his sleep and thought to compensate with a high quantity of food. Sans ponders over this as he watches a few streaks of lighter blue swirl around each other hypnotizingly. He doesn’t feel any pain or fatigue, the two most noticeable symptoms of a magic drain. 

“well, if it’s any consolation, i feel fine. i think it’s made of my magic somehow?” Sans brushes a finger across the surface of the strange bulge and a shiver runs up his spine. “woah- that felt weird.” He blurts in surprise. “whatever this thing is, it’s sensitive.” 

Grillby feels a great relief to his soul, it feels much less tense. So he isn’t hurt. [Thank the stars…] Feeling a bit weak with relief, Grillby leans against the counter again. Sans continues to prod at the weird mound of magic(?) resting on his hips. He pokes a finger into it, curious as to how far it’d sink. “oof- hnnp-” The grunt escapes him involuntarily and he leans forward a bit, immediately retracting his finger. “huff… huff…” It hadn’t gone in all that far, anyway. Maybe a few centimeters…? The thing is really firm under that, though. 

“Are you alright? What happened?” Grillby leans back forward at once, perhaps even more alert to Sans’s well being than before in the brief moment. He doesn’t like the sound of that grunt- maybe it is effecting him and he only figured it out now-

“yeah, yeah- huff- i don’t think it likes bein’ poked- oof…” Sans huffs in response. Grillby relaxes slowly. 

“Are you sure that is all? I- I have been very worried about you, Sans.” He admits, wringing his hands together so he has something to look at that isn’t Sans’s face.

“i’m fine, grillbz, really. if anything… heh… i think this thing’s growin’ on me a bit.” Sans strokes his palm down one side of it, feeling the warm flesh as it gently expanded with a breath. “it’s... kinda nice.” Curious as to what Sans is talking about, Grillby comes out from behind the counter and makes his way to the table, his vision trained on the odd mound rounding out from Sans’s torso. It’s bigger than it was before Sans came out to eat. With that and its location on his body… 

“Sans.” Sans looks over at Grillby expectantly. “I… I think I have a guess as to what that thing is.” He looks back down at his hips, running his thumb over the crest a few more times and nearly chuckling at just how sensitive the gesture is.

“well, i’m all ears here.”

“Maybe it is… a stomach of sorts? With where it seems to have formed and the fact that it’s only gotten bigger after you’ve eaten…” Grillby trails off as Sans mules it over, still brushing his hand over it.

“definitely a possibility.” He finally comments, resting both his hands on the rather round crest of the not-quite-a-sphere shaped mound. “maybe we should test that? there’s still more food here…” Heat pricks at Grillby’s cheeks. Why? Stars, something just sounds so… good about that. 

Fortunately for Grillby’s pride, Sans doesn’t notice. He’s reaching for more food. Grillby ends up slipping into the end chair of the slightly rectangular table where he can see Sans’s left side. “hey, uh, since i’m gonna be focused on eatin’ here, wouldja mind keepin’ an eye on this thing, see if it does anything? specifically... swelling?” Grillby nods, his throat feeling a bit closed off. He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack if he were to respond verbally. “Thanks.”

With that out of the way Sans pulls over the rest of the pancakes and the bottle of syrup. “welp, ‘bone’-apatite.” Grillby can’t even find the humor in him to roll his eyes right now. Will he really be able to finish all of those? He’s already cleared about three other dishes on his own. Well, he’s about to find out. Sans has already poured an unreasonable amount of syrup down the stack. That slob- he takes a whole pancake right from the top and takes a bite from it like an animal. Another wave of pricks washes over Grillby’s cheeks. 

Despite feeling full, Sans finishes off that pancake rather quickly. It’s only when Sans brings the next one to his mouth that Grillby remembers that he’s supposed to be watching Sans’s torso, not his face. It takes him a bit of willpower to look away, though… what is wrong with him? He’ll worry about that later- he’s supposed to be looking for s-swelling. Grillby is pretty sure the flames that make up his cheeks are at least glowing brighter than the rest of his face. 

It’s taking just about every scrap of willpower Grillby can muster to not look back up at Sans’s face. For some reason he can’t explain, it just… it’s so hard to stop watching. Though the slowly swirling shades of blue are quite pleasing to the eye… A quick glance back up at the table tells him that Sans had eaten another three pancakes while Grillby was staring at his gut. It… does look a bit rounder… and maybe a bit more saturated? A few minutes ago he could sort of see the little designs on the wall through it, and now he can’t. So it is gorging itself with magic… but not Sans’s magic, the magic Sans is getting from the food.

Grillby should tell Sans the results. But if he tells him… he might stop eating. Why he doesn’t want him to stop is unknown to him- but whatever it is, it is powerful. So Grillby stays silent, watching Sans stuff more of those fluffy flapjacks into his slotted mouth. As he continues to munch and moan Grillby’s mind begins to wander. Is that thing helping him eat more than he usually would? But… how much more can it really take?

Sans has just about forgotten Grillby’s presence. “mmmf- hulp- ngh-” The pancakes provide him with fluffy yet filling dollops of magic, and he can feel it traverse down to his core and settle. It’s… actually beginning to feel uncomfortable when he swallows and breathing is becoming a chore. “urf- hfff-” Ooohh but it tastes so good… without hesitation Sans takes yet another pancake from the stack. He doesn’t notice himself, but there’s only two left on the plate now. Bite, struggle to chew… he actually feels the organ strain as he swallows that. 

“oooohhhh….” Sans groans airily, not having the energy to make much sound, but also feeling the need to get that out. Without thinking about it he puts the pancake back and cups his sticky hands on the strained magic sack, whining and sweating with pain. 

“...Sans…?” Grillby’s flames start to flicker worriedly again. Sans can’t even bring himself to speak properly. “...I think you should stop eating.” Sans nods in agreement to that, at least. He feels like he’s about to burst open. “Ah…” Grillby doesn’t know what to do. He’s pretty certain that the strained and bloated glob of magic under Sans’s hands is a stomach- so does that mean he has a stomachache? What a strange thing to happen to a skeleton. But… how does he help Sans through it? He’s never had to deal with this before. 

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable…” Grillby gets to his feet and comes over to Sans, about to pick him up but unsure of how he would do so. He attempts to hook his arms around a few places before he eventually figures out how to pick him up bridal style. He imagines that putting pressure on the poor overtaxed mass under his ribs would only amount to more pain. With this in mind Grillby slowly… carefully… carries Sans back to the bed. Sans grunts and moans airily with just about every step. 

“uff... ss… so tight…” Sans manages to gasp out as he’s set down on the bed. It’s safe to assume that Grillby’s cheeks are at least purple right now. 

“I… do not know how to help.” He admits quietly, feeling a little ashamed of himself. He practically caused this- why can’t he figure out how to fix it? Sans once again begins to stroke the side of his gut, finding that the gesture distracts him from the pain a little. Grillby watches for a few moments, noticing Sans’s expression relax just a little. Maybe he should assist with that.

“Here.” Grillby reaches forward and places his hand just next to the crest of Sans’s strained belly, enticing a much stronger groan to come from the skeleton. “Does that… help?” Sans huffs for air a bit, and Grillby somehow feels his face burn harder as his stomach moves under his hand.

“ooouuuuhhh... sh- stars- grillby-” He’s practically melting. Grillby forces himself not to retract his hand, instead he explores Sans’s stomach. It feels a bit softer along the sides. It’s warm and tense at the crest, Grillby can actually differentiate Sans’s warmth from his own. “ffff- hhhooo…” 

“Shhh… relax, stop trying to talk. It’s putting too much strain here- I can feel it. Try to lay back further- yes, like that…” Grillby murmurs gentle instructions- guesses, really- to help Sans through this. It seems to be helping… thank the stars. Grillby ends up kneeling on the bed himself, seeing as this may take a few minutes. Or… longer. Maybe he wants it to take longer? His emotions are confusing him right now… he should just focus on the task at hand. Make that hands.

Grillby adds his other hand to the massaging, stroking the other side of Sans’s engorged belly with his fingertips. It’s so full… it’s no wonder that it’s so painful for Sans right now- it’s stretched tight. After a few minutes of this Sans looks a lot more content and is breathing a lot easier. That, and he seems to be on the brink of passing out. Grillby soothes out a still tensed up spot with his thumb for a while longer before leaning a bit closer to Sans’s face, causing the skeleton’s cheeks to flush with the heat.

“Hey… how about you go ahead and stay here until tomorrow? I don’t want you hurting yourself out there like this…” Sans manages to nod a bit, just enough for Grillby to catch his response.

“thanks... grillbz.” Sans mumbles, slowly reaching his arm over to give Grillby’s hand a pat.

“My pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some official art for this chapter, it fits in before the paragraph near the end that starts with "Shhh... relax, stop trying to talk."
> 
> >>[ https://galaxy-bellies.tumblr.com/post/163704910001/how-about-a-bit-of-official-art-for-my-fic-im ]<<


	6. Lunch at the Skeleton Household

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a "new job" and requires a business week away from home to get it started. How is he going to convince Papyrus to let him go away from home when he's already so unreliable about being there in the first place?

“heeyyy pap.” Sans slides through the door with his right heel, a relaxed smile trained on his face. Papyrus turns towards him from the kitchen doorway, his hands on his hips and his chest raised. A rather comical expression of glee spreads across his skull.

“AH! THERE YOU ARE, BROTHER! IT IS GOOD TO SEE THAT YOU ARE HOME SAFE!” Thank Asgore he isn't mad. 

“yeah, bro. i had a ‘swell’ time hangin’ out at grillbz’ place last night.” Sans quips with a wink. His hands are in their resting place in his pockets, his hoodie zipped for once. His shirt gives away the events of last night a little too much for Sans’s comfort right now, and he isn’t sure how Papyrus would react. It isn’t super obvious, but Papyrus can be really observant sometimes. Sans would rather not risk it today.

Papyrus groans and shakes his head. “SANS, THESE JOKES ARE BECOMING SO BAD I DO NOT EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU ARE JOKING ABOUT.”

“that’s probably for the best, bro. before you know it, i might stop being ‘humerus’. you’d probably be a lot happier then, huh?” Sans takes a few measured steps to the couch, being careful to use his pockets to keep his jacket away from his still slightly protruding belly. 

Grillby had ended up cooking even more once Sans had finally emerged from his nap. It was so good he finished all three courses of the meal. Hey, in his defense, Grillby’s food is literally the best in Snowdin- maybe even the entire Underground for that matter. Sans couldn't help himself… and honestly, sleeping off all of the food just felt really nice. It's hard to explain… he's having trouble just wrapping his head around it.

“WELL, THOSE TERRIBLE JOKES SEEM TO LIFT YOUR SPIRITS SOMEWHAT, SO EVEN THOUGH THEY MIGHT BE INTOLERABLE, I THINK I CAN LET YOU BE AMUSED. WHAT KIND OF BROTHER WOULD I BE IF I DIDN’T LET YOU LAUGH?!”

“i dunno, bro. what kind of brother would you be?” Sans flops onto the couch, landing with perhaps a little more oomph than usual. Papyrus doesn't seem to have noticed- he's ducking into the kitchen. Oh joy… well, at least skeletons don't NEED to taste… though it's really enjoyable if there's good food. 

“THAT WAS RHETORICAL, SANS. WELL, NONETHELESS, YOU HAVE LUCKILY ARRIVED HOME JUST IN TIME FOR LUNCH! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL ONCE AGAIN MAKE YOUR TASTEBUDS SING WITH THE POPPING FLAVOURS OF MY WORLD-CLASS SPAGHETTI!” A few telltale clangs and clatters of Papyrus setting up the massive metal pot he purchased just for making spaghetti on the counter can be heard. Sans is about to reply but is cut off by Papyrus leaning back through the doorway with a quizzical expression. “THAT IS- IF YOU DECIDE TO ACTUALLY STAY FOR LUNCH TODAY.”

“course i will, bro. b’sides, there's somethin’ i want to talk with you about over some good food.” Yeah, bring it up as casual as possible… 

“NYEH? YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT SOMETHING THAT I DID NOT BRING UP AS A CONVERSATION STARTER FOR ONCE?!?! THIS IS MARVELOUS, BROTHER! IT IS SO GOOD TO FINALLY SEE YOU COMING OUT OF YOUR SLUMP!” Sans feels some part of his soul tense up, but doesn't let his expression change. Dang it- he's showing capabilities- the last thing he wants is people actually expecting him to do things right-!

“yeah, bro. i finally broke through my own thick skull, i guess. it was pretty difficult, i’m quite the bonehead, as you've probably figured out.”

“SANS!!! DO NOT RUIN THIS SPECIAL MOMENT WITH YOUR TERRIBLE HUMOR! I WANT YOU TO REALLY TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY, I THINK THIS IS A REAL STEP FORWARD FOR YOU!” Papyrus has ducked back into the kitchen and it sounds like he's filling the pot with water.

“ok,” is the only response that Sans has the emotional energy to come up with. He puffs a sigh and sits back, closing his eyes. He knows Papyrus means well- hell, Sans even agrees with him that he should open up more- but talking is exhausting, and even thinking about actually opening the floodgates makes his head hurt. Deep breaths… okay. He'll take up the idea with Papyrus, and if everything goes well, he'll only have to deal for another two days… he can do that. Two days of waiting… yeah. 

“I REALLY AM PROUD OF YOU, SANS. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME! WITH YOU OPENING UP MORE, MAYBE YOU’LL FINALLY HAVE THE ABILITY TO TALK WITH KING ASGORE AGAIN…” Sans decides to tune out at this point, simply mumbling an ‘m-hmm’ every now and then to fein paying attention. During this little lapse of staring into space Sans doesn’t notice his arms going slack from holding his jacket out. 

With his hands idly resting on the still slightly unfamiliar surface of his belly, he doesn’t register his left fingers start to idly stroke it through his pocket fabric. He does recognise a little wave of comfort wash over him, causing a drawled out “mmm-hmmm…” to escape his jaw a little awkwardly in timing. Man, he feels kinda drowsy all of a sudden, does staring into space suddenly take energy too? 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder that, because a loud clatter breaks through his thoughts. “LUNCH HAS BEEN PREPARED, BROTHER! COME INTO THE KITCHEN AND PREPARE A BOWL FOR YOURSELF!” Sans sits up pretty quickly in surprise. Since when were his eyes closed? He struggles to form a sentence for a few moments.

“uh- sure bro, be right there.” Man, he was really out of it if he starts a sentence with a filler word around Papyrus. Woops. A simple shortcut and he’s leaning on the kitchen doorway, his arms once again holding his jacket out of the way. Papyrus beams at him. 

“COME BROTHER, BEFORE THE PASTA GETS COLD!” Sans nods, pushing himself off the door frame with his elbow and meandering to the counter. 

“yanno, i’d love to get myself a serving, but i regrettably can’t reach the counter.” Papyrus seems to just notice this now, even though the two of them go through this on a regular basis. 

“GREAT ASGORE! MY APOLOGIES, BROTHER. HERE- THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL GLADLY MAKE A BOWL FOR YOU!” Papyrus reaches over into a cupboard, pulling out a rather average sized reusable bowl crafted from the cave crystals that are abundant in the underground. He serves a pretty generous helping, and Sans takes a calming breath. He wonders how his stomach will handle this, it certainly isn’t Grillby’s style of food. “BONE-APPETIT, SANS! NYEH HEH HEH!” 

Sans grins at him as he gets handed the bowl, his slight uneasiness easily hidden behind his smile. “nice one, bro.” 

“I FIND IT IS A NICE ONE TOO! I PLAN ON USING IT ON THE HUMAN I CAPTURE AS I ENRAPTURE THEM WITH MY WORLD FAMOUS SPAGHETTI! IT WILL SIMPLY INTIMIDATE THEM MORE I AM SURE!”

“yeah, and i think your rhymes will too.” Sans winks cheekily at his brother before casually taking his bowl to the table and climbing into a chair.

“NYEH… I HAVE TOLD YOU BROTHER, I DO NOT MEAN TO COMMUNICATE IN RHYMES- IT JUST HAPPENS SOMETIMES!” Sans has to hold in a laugh at the irony of that sentence. Papyrus looks a little distressed, his bone brow furrowed and his hands clasped. His amusement deflates a little.

“i know, bro. sorry if i tease you about it too much, i just find it kinda endearing.” Papyrus blushes a little, his cheeks going a shade of light pink.

“YOU THINK SO?” 

“sure.” Papyrus looks pleased. Feeling satisfied with that, Sans takes up a fork he finds already laying on the table and begins to eat the haphazardous bowl of pasta on autopilot, finding it best to just ignore the unpleasant texture and burnt aroma escaping through the cracks in his teeth and nasal cavity. Papyrus begins to hum as he fills the pot with water to wash it. The kitchen is relatively quiet for a few minutes until something tugs at the back of Sans’s mind. Right- crap- he was going to talk to Papyrus about something, that’s why he was going idle on the couch again.

Papyrus shows no sign of remembering why he had gone on the ramble from a few minutes ago. A little spike of anxiety pierces through Sans’ssoul, but he quiets it a little with a few deep breaths. “hey, so, about what i was gonna ask you…”

“OH MY GOODNESS! I HAD NEARLY FORGOTTEN THAT YOU HAD SOMETHING TO TELL ME!” Sans smiles a little. Heh… of course Papyrus would turn the conversation to himself like that.

“yeah, bro. it’s sort of a request.” Sans looks to the kitchen to check if Papyrus is listening, and he is. “see, i picked up another job recently-”

“THIS NEW JOB WILL NOT INTERFERE WITH YOUR SENTRY SCHEDULE, WILL IT? I AM WORRIED ABOUT YOUR POSTS BEING EMPTY ENOUGH AS IT IS!”

“no, well- not really? most of the time it won’t, bro, but this is why i’m asking you. my employer wants me to head to new home for a work week so he can give me the layout of the place. i can get the dogs to cover my shifts again probably, i just wanna know if you’re okay being alone for a little while.”

Papyrus shifts his weight from foot to foot for a few moments as he thinks. “ERM… DO YOU PROMISE TO CALL ME EVERY DAY SO I CAN KNOW YOU ARE WELL?” Sans knows that’s code for him calling Papyrus every night to read him a story over the phone line. 

“of course.” 

“THEN MY ANSWER IS YES! I THINK YOU GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE FOR A WEEK SOUNDS WONDERFUL! SANS, YOU JUST KEEP GETTING BETTER TODAY, BROTHER! I AM VERY IMPRESSED.” 

“thanks, bro. the week starts on monday, just to let you know.”

“THAT SOUNDS LIKE A PLAN BROTHER. I WILL ENSURE THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE GUARD KEEP YOUR POST COVERED AT ALL TIMES! THEY WILL NEVER HAVE WORKED QUITE AS HARD BEFORE! NYEH HEH HEH!” 

Sans can’t help but huff a little in relief. He knew his bro would be cool enough to let him do this, but it was still eating at him uncomfortably all morning. “hey, could i borrow your phone for a few moments so i can call my boss and tell him i’ll be there?” 

“BUT OF COURSE!” Papyrus proudly marches through the kitchen and produces his phone from his inventory to give to Sans. “JUST BE SURE TO GIVE IT BACK AS SOON AS YOU ARE FINISHED WITH IT, AND FOR THE LOVE OF PUZZLES PLEASE REFRAIN FROM CHANGING THE WALLPAPER TO SOME BAD JOKE AGAIN.” 

“sure.” [no promises.] Sans chuckles quietly to himself as he watches Papyrus stride back into the kitchen to work on cleaning his pot. Sans turns his attention to the old phone model in his hands. Being a skeleton means that touchscreens don’t respond very well, so Sans had to adapt a slap-phone (as he jokingly calls it due to the sound it makes when you close the lid) with buttons that he found in the dump one day to actually turn on and connect to the undernet. He flips open the closed half of the phone using his thumb and uses the little buttons that are the perfect size for his phalanges to direct the phone to dial a number. He fondly smiles as he inputs the familiar series of digits, relaxing back in his chair as he puts the phone up to the side of his head. 

“Hello?” 

“hey, g. we’re all set for monday on my end.”

“Good. I’ll put up the notices around the bar. I expect to see you no later than noon.”

“sounds like a plan, bud. see ya soon.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would highly appreciate if you would comment about if you enjoyed this lil' teaser to what comes or not. It really does help keep me motivated to keep writing.


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